The Contest
by Thenidiel
Summary: Fed up with the lack of maturity amongst his musketeers, Treville organises a competition.
1. Chapter 1

"It's my baguette, I bought it!"

"Ah, but I stole it fair and square, so it's mine."

"How can you steal something 'fair and square'?"

"My need was greater than yours."

"Your need for my breakfast?"

"Gentlemen!"

The four musketeers looked up, to see Treville's face fixed into an expression of mingled amusement and exasperation. An expression, Athos mused, that seemed to be becoming rather permanent.

"It has not escaped my notice" said Treville, "that four of my best musketeers have, of late, been behaving more like overgrown children than like the king's bodyguards." Ignoring the injured looks, he carried on. "In order to bring your focus back to your jobs, I am therefore decreeing a contest." Raising his voice still further in an attempt to drown out Porthos' protestations that by commandeering D'Artagnan's breakfast, he was enabling himself to do his job better, he announced that in a week's time, the four of them would compete in swordplay, shooting, and hand-to-hand combat. The one who ranked highest overall would be declared the winner.

"What's the prize, Captain?" asked Aramis. Treville smiled; this was the best part of his scheme. "Madame Rodier is visiting Paris next month," he said, and then watched with no small amount of glee as the musketeers' faces fell in unison. Madame Rodier was a second cousin of the king, a small, plump woman of late middle years. Ever since her husband had died two years earlier, she had made a habit of visiting the capital, and the musketeers were required to provide protection for her due to the royal connection. Between her shameless advances on the musketeers, and her frequent and whining commands that they fetch cakes for her and her pet lapdogs at any hour of the day or night, guarding her was every musketeer's nightmare.

"As usual, a detail of three musketeers will be needed to protect her" continued Treville, by now enjoying himself mightily. "The winner will be excused this duty." With that, he returned to his office, feeling rather pleased with himself.

"Captain?"

He looked up to see Athos, who had followed him into his office, and was looking almost cheerful, an expression that was rare for the generally taciturn musketeer at the best of times, and certainly at this moment of great peril.

"Yes?"

"Are you holding this contest because you are seriously worried about our ability to protect the king, or because you want a reprieve from the bickering?"

Not for the first time in his life, Treville silently cursed Athos' ability to read people. He floundered for an answer for a moment, before Athos spoke again.

"If it's the latter, I fear it will be less than successful."

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A.N. Thanks for reading! Please review, and just to say that I haven't yet decided on the winner of this competition - if you have any opinions let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

Athos had been wrong, thought Treville. Not only had the musketeers' arguing ceased, they seemed to have stopped speaking entirely. Glorious, blessed silence reigned over the garrison; the first peace and quiet the captain had known for weeks.

So why should he be worried?

He rose from his desk, and looked outside to check that a sudden plague hadn't killed his best musketeers. However, when he saw the scene in the courtyard, he began to think that said plague might be preferable. The four of them had retreated to different areas, and each seemed to be feverishly calculating … something. Athos and Aramis were using pen and paper, while Porthos and D'Artagnan were staring into the distance, entirely focused on whatever was going through their heads.

Returning to his paperwork, Treville told himself to stop being so suspicious. He'd got what he wanted, hadn't he? There was no bickering, mock duels or general foolishness – nothing but the distant hum of the city was to be heard.

He was worried.

Rising again, he checked outside, and found that the courtyard was now entirely empty.

He was very worried.

* * *

A mile or so away from the garrison there was a small pub, and it was here that the four musketeers convened.

"Gentlemen," Athos began, "I suspect that you have all come to the same conclusion I have." Looking around and seeing general agreement he continued. "As things stand, Aramis will win shooting, and Porthos hand-to-hand. Sword-fighting, while closer, is likely to be D'Artagnan or myself. What is less clear is who is likely to come second or third in all of these. Looking at my calculations, overall it's pretty even right now, meaning that we have several options."

"One", said Porthos, "we could try and persuade each other for coaching in our weak spots, which would improve our chances." He was looking hopefully at Aramis as he spoke, but the marksman looked non-committal.

"Or," interjected D'Artagnan, "we could relax for the next week, and see who's luckier on the day." The young man was still delighted at finally joining the ranks of the musketeers, and was currently feeling pretty confident in his abilities. More importantly, he had yet to have the misfortune of guarding Madame Rodier, and while he had heard storied of the awfulness it entailed, he still did not fully appreciate the true horror of the prospect.

"Thirdly," said Aramis, when it became obvious that nobody was going to go along with D'Artagnan's idea, "we could rig the results."

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A.N. Thank you for reading, and for the reviews so far! The winner is still open - let me know your preference!


	3. Chapter 3

"Go on," said Athos, leaning forward with interest, but before Aramis could speak D'Artagnan leapt in, sounding sceptical.

"But surely if we're all suddenly exactly the same standard at everything Treville will smell a rat."

"Which is why we're not going to be exactly the same at everything" replied Aramis patiently. "We'll set it up so we all end up getting the same number of points in total. I've worked it out; two of us will have to tie once or twice, but it is feasible." He pulled out the paper he'd been working on and showed it to the others.

"It could work," agreed Athos, "but Treville's no fool, he could insist on a final round to decide the winner."

Aramis nodded. "That's why we need to persuade him that we're taking this very seriously. We need to train like madmen for the next week. We have to act like we're desperate to beat each other. Then, when it turns out to be a draw he can't blame us, since it was obvious that we all wanted to win. With any luck he'll put three other musketeers on to the detail, rather than having to choose three of us arbitrarily"

"Sounds like a good idea to me" said D'Artagnan cheerfully, before getting up and heading to the bar for another drink. Athos studied the plan for another minute before following the Gascon. Porthos sat for a few moments in uncharacteristic silence before turning to Aramis.

"You going to tell me the actual plan, then?"

* * *

At this moment in time D'Artagnan was feeling pretty good about life. Sure, the contest was a bit of a problem, but Aramis' scheme seemed watertight. And even if it turned out not to be, he still felt sure that the horror stories of Madame Rodier were exaggerated. So it was with a cheerful countenance that he turned to Athos when the older man joined him. A countenance that was not mirrored in any way.

"We have a serious problem." When D'Artagnan looked non-plussed, Athos gestured to the other two, now deep in conversation. "They're plotting against us."

"Nonsense," replied D'Artagnan immediately. "Aramis wouldn't do that"

"Aramis is one of the most loyal men I know, and in a battle I would trust him with my life, but this is very different. He knows that he's untouchable in shooting, just as Porthos knows he's guaranteed to win hand-to-hand. So if the two of them train each other, so that Aramis will come second in hand-to-hand, and Porthos second in shooting, then neither of us have a hope of winning. It'll go down to whichever of them wins sword-fighting. By teaming up they double their chances of victory"

"But then why would Aramis go to all the trouble of planning the draw out."

"Because if we followed his scheme, we wouldn't be worrying about how to beat each other. We wouldn't suspect him of plotting anything else."

D'Artagnan nodded slowly. While he was reluctant to believe that his friends would act dishonourably, what Athos was saying did make a certain amount of sense.

"So what's our plan, then?"

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A.N. Thanks once again for reading / reviewing. I'm making this up as I go along, so suggestions are appreciated!


	4. Chapter 4

D'Artagnan had a headache. In the three days since Treville's announcement, he had been persuaded into agreements with each of his friends individually, to join them and bring down the other two. He now had normal training during the day, and extra sword training at night with either Aramis or Porthos, both of whom had said they would focus on swordplay in the hope of beating Athos. He wasn't sure if he believed either of them, or if this was part of their plan to take him and Athos down, but he was certain that any extra training could only be beneficial to him, so went along with them.

Until tonight, when all his agreements had conspired against him. At precisely eight o'clock, he was meant to be meeting Aramis at the Hotel de Ville for sword practice. Eight was also the time at which Porthos was expecting him behind the Luxembourg for more training, and if this was not enough, eight was when he should be assisting Athos with altering the muskets at the garrison. D'Artagnan had objected to this unsportsmanlike behaviour, but Athos had stated that Aramis already had enough of an advantage at shooting, and that this would make life more interesting for him. D'Artagnan was not remotely convinced by this argument, but was learning quickly that all was fair where Madame Rodier was concerned.

Earlier that day, in fact, he had inquired about the lady in question to Aramis. With the musketeer's reputation for befriending wealthy widows, D'Artagnan had been sure that, for him at least, guarding Madame Rodier would be no great hardship. However, his questions were met with an ashen look and a hasty retreat. Indeed, Aramis had almost run to the garrison kitchen, where he could be seen downing wine at a speed that would put Athos to shame. Porthos, sitting nearby, had smirked at Aramis' response, but all he had told D'Artagnan was that Aramis had protected Madame Rodier on her last visit, and it was an experience he did not wish to repeat.

In fact, all three of the musketeers seemed horrified at the prospect, and their reactions, combined with the stories he had heard since he'd arrived at the garrison, meant that D'Artagnan was beginning to take this contest more serious than he had before. Whereas the D'Artagnan of a year ago would have refused to take part in any underhand behaviour, and the D'Artagnan of a few days ago would have been unconcerned at the looming competition, the D'Artagnan of this moment was trying to decide which eight o'clock appointment would be most advantageous for him.

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A.N. Thank you for reading – reviews are always appreciated, and the winner is still undecided!


	5. Chapter 5

It was a beautiful day in Paris. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and everything was at peace. Except in the musketeers' garrison, that was, where Treville was close to exploding. Four of his musketeers stood in front of him, but with the exception of those four the garrison was deserted; everyone else had wisely opted to go somewhere a long way away.

"You really are idiots, aren't you? Complete and utter imbeciles. Did you really think that these hare-brained schemes would work?"

He turned to the nearest culprit, who happened to be Porthos. "Would you care to tell me why you got in a fight with three Red Guards behind the Luxembourg?"

Porthos looked torn between embarrassment and belligerence, but before he could speak Treville carried on. "Utterly unprovoked, they tell me, and for once I'm inclined to believe them. Just because D'Artagnan did not come and fight with you – which is also against the rules, by the way – did you really think attacking Red Guards was the best way to spend your evening?"

Cutting off Porthos' answer (which he was worried would be in the affirmative), he turned to Athos. "How would you like to tell me why you were found by a stableboy in the garrison last night, trying to sabotage the muskets?"

Athos was as composed as ever, but again Treville carried on before he could reply. "No, on second thoughts I don't want to know. Nor do I want to know why the two of you," turning to Aramis and D'Artagnan, "decided to practice shooting and sword-fighting by the Hotel de Ville, who by the way are extremely annoyed about the broken statue."

"I have given all the garrison staff the next three days off. The four of you are going to spend that time so busy with cooking, washing, looking after the horses, and doing whatever else needs to be done, you will have no time to think, let alone plot any more madcap ideas. After that, there will be the contest, and after that three of you will have the pleasure of guarding Madame Rodier. Do I make myself clear?"

Happily the four musketeers had the good sense to keep their replies to nods and "yes, Captain." With a final glare, Treville returned to his office, wondering why he had ever thought this stupid contest was a good idea.

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A.N. Thanks for reading - let me know what you think!


	6. Chapter 6

It was two days until the contest, and the weather had changed for the worse. It had been raining steadily for most of the day, which, Treville pondered, was an accurate representation of his mood. The one crumb of comfort was that the rain drowned out the sound of the whining of the four musketeers, but even as he thought this the foursome gathered directly beneath his office, and the crumb went away.

"I'm not doing the laundry."

"Well I'm certainly not doing it."

"As the most senior musketeer I feel it is my duty to delegate this task to someone else."

"As the most junior musketeer I feel it would be beyond me."

Treville bit back a scream.

"Gentlemen, there is no way I can do the laundry. Think of my reputation; what would the widows of Paris say if they found out that the dashing musketeer they'd been acquainted with was in fact a laundrymaid?"

"Precisely why it should be you, Aramis. It'd give us a break from rescuing you from disgruntled husbands."

"I personally feel it should be D'Artagnan – "

"What? Why me?"

"It's a useful initiation into the ranks of the musketeers. Think of it as a learning experience."

"Oh no, the last time I believed you and your learning experiences, I ended up halfway across Paris in search of your stupid hat. Athos, you're the oldest, you do it."

"As I have already explained, with age comes the art of delegation. Besides, it would be demeaning for the Comte de la Fere to do the laundry."

"What happened to wanting to keep your title quiet?"

"Enough!"

The musketeers looked up to see their esteemed captain standing on the balcony, looking dangerously close to explosion.

"I don't know whether this whole argument has been staged to irritate me or not, but either way it is ending. Now. Madame Colbert will be back the day after tomorrow, and the garrison will just have to cope without clean laundry until then. So go, muck out the stables, clean the weapons, do something, anything, just do it quietly!"

Too late Treville realised that the last part of his rant had come out much more high-pitched than he had planned.

"Captain, is everything alright? You sound a little unwell."

Aramis' face was a mask of polite concern, and Treville could almost – almost – believe his sincerity.

"Go. Work. Now."

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A.N. Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

The night before the competition the hour musketeers were gathered in a pub. None of them were really sure why they were in a pub, since even Athos had forsaken alcohol in favour of being alert the following day. Nevertheless, there they were, each quietly ruminating about the following day, and, far more worryingly, the days after that, when, for three of them, guard duty would commence.

"I don't suppose it's possible that Treville would just – you know – forget about the forfeit for the losers," asked D'Artagnan, who had spent a large part of the afternoon listening to Victor, a musketeer who was renowned, perhaps unfortunately, for being the only one, to date, who had had to protect Madame Rodier on more than one visit. Whatever he had said to D'Artagnan had definitely had an effect; the youngest musketeer was still several shades paler than usual.

"Lost some of that Gascon confidence?" asked Aramis.

"No! No, I'll win, that is without question, I'm just wondering how bad to feel for you three" said D'Artagnan. The other musketeers made outraged noises at the very thought of him emerging victorious, but none of their hearts were really in the mock argument, and they soon lapsed back into silence.

After a few minutes Athos cleared his throat, and went to raise his glass in a toast. Finding he had no glass to toast with, he settled for sitting up straighter, and putting on his I-am-the-most-mature-person-here face.

"Gentlemen, may the best man win."

* * *

In another pub, Treville was also sitting, and like his musketeers, he had elected not to drink that evening. Unlike his musketeers, however, his mood was bordering on jubilant. He was looking forward to the following day on a number of levels. Firstly, and most charitably, it was always a pleasure to watch such skilled warriors compete. Secondly, it would put an end to the week of hell he had been forced to endure. And thirdly, and most rewardingly, there was the thought that this time tomorrow, he would have three of them out of his hair for several weeks.

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A.N. Thank you for reading, and for your reviews!


	8. Chapter 8

The following day dawned bright and sunny, dashing the hopes of the foursome, who had each fervently wished for a sudden snowstorm, or perhaps an earthquake, anything to cancel the competition.

Round one, Treville had decided, would be hand-to-hand combat. It was best to place shooting in the middle, as it was the least physically taxing. It was also, if not best, certainly the most entertaining to finish with the swords, it being the only contest where the winner was not almost a foregone conclusion. Porthos, who had arrived looking positively melancholy, had cheered up considerably at the thought of gaining an early lead. The others, however, were looking almost queasy, a fact that Treville noted with no small amount of satisfaction. Revenge was indeed sweet.

The garrison was considerably busier than usual – only those on essential duties were elsewhere. Judging by the frequent clinkings the Captain could hear, wagers were being placed with great enthusiasm. From what he could tell, Athos was the current favourite, but only just. Treville made a mental note to personally ensure the King's safety the following day, as he had the distinct suspicion that, besides the four competing musketeers, who would certainly be needed alcohol after today, a large proportion of his elite soldiers would spend the evening either celebrating their winnings or drowning their sorrows.

For now, however, he was just going to relax and enjoy the day.

"Gentlemen, the scoring system is as follows. First place in each discipline will be awarded 3 points, second place 2, third 1, and fourth 0. At the end of the day the totals will be added up, and the winner will be the one with the most points. For the other three, a delightful period will ensure, especially as I have heard that Madame Rodier is planning on staying somewhat longer than usual."

He had heard no such thing, but the lie was worth it to see four of his best musketeers go weak at the knees. Trying and failing to conceal his smile, he made the portentous announcement,

"Let the contest begin."

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A.N. Last chance to suggest the winner! Thank you for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

A childhood spent in the Court of Miracles really did have its advantages, thought Porthos, as they moved on to their second fight of the morning. Yes, there were the small matters of struggling to find food and shelter on a daily basis, but it had given him the ability to fight, and fight dirty, which outweighed all the hardships at this moment. He had beaten D'Artagnan with almost indecent haste, and was still musing on his upbringing as he unceremoniously deposited Aramis in the muddiest puddle available – for the third time.

For his part, Aramis' thoughts were not nearly so happy. Not only had he been beaten by Athos in the first round (and how a son of the nobility had known such underhand tricks he did not know), he now strongly suspected that he was little more than entertainment for Porthos. Despite his best efforts, he had been unable to land a single hit so far, and his previously spotless uniform was now all but covered in mud. Really, he thought, the day could not get much worse.

A few seconds later he was forced to revise that opinion, when he found himself suspended upside down over the garrison well.

* * *

On the other side of the garrison D'Artagnan was up against Athos. What he lacked in experience he made up for in energy; the one advantage of starting against Porthos was that the match had been over so quickly, meaning that he was still fairly fresh. He also had the sneaking suspicion that Athos, while obviously wanting to win, did not want to humiliate him in front of the watching musketeers, and was therefore holding back slightly. D'Artagnan therefore began to slow, and allowed a tired, pained expression to take over his face, predicting that Athos would also slow to match him. A small part of D'Artagnan felt guilty for manipulating Athos in such a way, but the guilt vanished entirely when he suddenly returned to full speed, and saw the surprise on Athos' face, followed closely by severe disgruntlement when the older musketeer ended up on the ground in an armlock.

* * *

And so they moved on to the final round. Athos, while able to give Porthos a bit more of a fight than he had had so far that morning, was still beaten in a few minutes, meaning that the two of them were able to watch Aramis versus D'Artagnan. At first it looked like Aramis had the upper hand, and indeed he was soon able to land a solid hit that sent the Gascon to the ground, where he lay unmoving. Aramis immediately went to check on him, and Athos was also looking concerned, but Porthos had realised what he was doing, and only chuckled when D'Artagnan kicked upwards, sending Aramis sprawling.

Yes, D'Artagnan mused, fighting with honour was severely overrated.

"That concludes the first round, gentlemen," said Treville, enjoying himself mightily as he gazed down at the varying degrees of muddiness. "So Porthos has 3 points, D'Artagnan 2, Athos 1, and Aramis is languishing in last."

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A.N. Thanks for reading and reviewing – I really appreciate it!


	10. Chapter 10

The shooting was the only round where the four musketeers would not be taking it in turns to compete against each other, as all four could go at once. To make life more interesting, Treville had decided to introduce an element of speed into it. Thus, each musketeer would have to load and shoot at a target five times. While accuracy would be the primary factor, their speed would also be a feature of deciding the winner.

The targets were set up at one end of the garrison. To Treville, and to the audience, they looked fairly unassuming – the same as they had any other day. To the foursome, however, they were truly terrifying. Porthos mused that he would prefer an army of attacking Huguenots at this moment; the prospect of imminent death was preferable to the thought of protecting Madame Rodier and her lapdogs.

Treville decided that he would keep the musketeers waiting a few minutes before beginning this round. If anyone had asked him, he would have said that this was teaching his soldiers a valuable exercise in patience. The voice in his head, however, pointed out that the main reason for this was for the entertainment of watching them panic. Athos, as always, was standing still, looking eminently unruffled. The other three, however, were providing much more amusement. Porthos was not a patient man at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. He was shifting about in front of the targets, growing steadily more unnerved. Aramis seemed to be in communion with his musket, muttering to it earnestly. D'Artagnan, in contrast, was looking rather pleased with himself, having done better than expected in the previous round. However, his smugness was slipping the longer he waited.

Treville was tempted to let them stew all day, but reluctantly decided to be kind. He moved to the side of the targets, and announced the start.

Aramis, as predicted, was extraordinary. Really it was unfair, Treville thought, that a man could be so talented with firearms, especially a man who had caused him so many headaches. By the time the other three were loading for their fourth shot, he was taking his fifth, each one a perfect bullseye. Porthos was next to finish, but the results were not nearly so good. While Porthos, despite Aramis' teasing, was a more than capable shot, having to load at speed had flustered him, and he had not taken enough time to aim. Two shots had missed the target entirely, and the other three were nowhere the middle. It looked like Porthos' commanding lead was over.

Athos finished third, having loaded and shot with the calmness that defined him. His shots were good; although none had hit the centre, they were all close. Just behind him was D'Artagnan. His relative lack of experience showed in the slightly longer time it had taken him to reload, but his shots were very good. In fact, considered Treville, they may be good enough to overtake Athos, despite the longer time to finish. A closer look confirmed his suspicions – D'Artagnan had two bullseyes, and the other three were also fairly close to the centre.

Treville smiled – this was going to be even closer than he had thought. D'Artagnan was now in the lead with 4 points, Aramis and Porthos were each on 3, and Athos had 2.

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A.N. Reviews appreciated - thank you for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

Treville was almost sorry that they had already reached the final round of the contest; while he was looking forward to the peace that would come from the absence of three of the competitors, as well as the lack of complaints, damage reports and general headaches, this day had been thoroughly enjoyable, both for the (slightly sadistic) entertainment at the terror of said musketeers, and for the pleasure of watching some of the best warriors in France compete. This last round promised to be the most entertaining of them all.

The first stage of swordplay consisted of Athos versus D'Artagnan, and Porthos versus Aramis. Athos had said, quite rightly, that one day D'Artagnan could be the greatest of all of them, and his lead in the contest so far would seem to support this, but that day had not yet arrived. While D'Artagnan had natural talent by the boatload, his relative lack of experience coupled with excessive smugness about his performance thus far meant that Athos could gain the lead, which he did. Decisively. D'Artagnan-pinned-to-a-post-by-a-dagger-in-his-sleeve decisively – Athos seemed to have learnt his lesson about underestimating the Gascon.

Porthos and Aramis were still going by the time D-Artagnan had freed himself; the two of them had sparred so many times that, despite their different techniques, they were fairly evenly matched. However, some teasing from Aramis had the desired effect of annoying Porthos to the point that his guard slipped for a fraction of a second, which was all that was required.

Next, it was Athos versus Aramis, and Porthos versus D'Artagnan. Aramis was one of the only members of the regiment who was able, albeit rarely to beat Athos at swordplay, but with the threat of Madame Rodier foremost in his mind Athos was not about to make any mistakes, and won the match after a few minutes. Porthos, who was fuming after his defeat in the earlier match, went in with all guns metaphorically blazing, and was able to use sheer strength to overpower D'Artagnan.

The Gascon's cockiness was fading rapidly, and the final round did not help matters. Both he and Aramis had similar fighting techniques – relying on speed over strength – but on this day experience triumphed, leaving D'Artagnan with the grand total of 0 points in this round. Athos, in contrast, had come back from last place overall to a win in swordplay, having dispatched Porthos with customary efficiency.

"So the final results are as follows" announced Treville, with a slight air of panic. "D'Artagnan and Porthos both finish with 4 points, and Athos and Aramis both have 5. A tiebreaker is therefore required."

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Thanks for reading! Any ideas on said tiebreaker would be appreciated.


	12. Chapter 12

Treville managed the walk to his office with dignity and calm. Once inside, however, he slumped at his desk and reached for the brandy he reserved for special occasions. While this didn't quite qualify as a special occasion, at this moment he needed alcohol and he needed it now.

A draw. What in the name of all that was holy was he meant to do now? A little voice in the back of his mind was inquiring why he ever thought this was a good idea, but the larger part of his brain was frantically trying to think of a way to end this, preferably quickly and quietly and without excessive bloodshed. Rising and glancing out the window, however, he realised that this may be too great a hope.

The garrison had split into two distinct groups, one surrounding Athos and the other Aramis. Each crowd was diving their time between encouraging their champion and glaring at the other group. Treville noticed that D'Artagnan was standing by Athos, while Porthos was with Aramis, thereby adding another layer to his headache. If and when a victor was decided, he was going to end up with a deeply unhappy garrison, never mind who turned out to be the actual victor. Treville decided that more brandy was required.

An hour, four drinks, and two scuffles in the yard later, Treville emerged. His expression was that of a man who was unsure if this was a good idea, but nevertheless he moved with certainty as he descended partway down the stairs, before halting and waiting for the musketeers to gather around him.

"In the Cardinal's residence there is a ruby, known as the Blood Jewel. It is one of the largest gemstones in the world, and the Cardinal counts it as among his most prized possessions. The one who brings it to me before midnight tomorrow will be declared the winner."

Treville started to return to his office, but then turned back around. "And if any of you others help or hinder these two in any way, I will find you duties that will make guarding Madame Rodier seem like a dream."

Once back in his office, Treville exhaled heavily. The sensible part of his mind was certain that he had just made a monumental mistake, one that could lead to him making an enemy of the most powerful man in France. On the other hand, being in possession of the Cardinal's ruby could be a bargaining chip for future favours. There was also the factor, he admitted ruefully to himself, that the next day and a half promised to be extremely entertaining.

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A.N. Sorry for the delay in updating, and thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

"Er … Captain?"

Treville looked up from his desk to see Porthos hovering in the doorway. The musketeer looked decidedly uncomfortable, which was unsurprising, Treville thought to himself; it was usually Athos, as his unofficial deputy, who was tasked with inquiring if his captain had lost his mind. But now, with Athos less than available, this duty had fallen to Porthos, who was now shuffling unhappily into the room.

"Do you think this … task is a good idea? If the Cardinal catches them he'll have all our heads, and even if he doesn't he won't be best pleased to find this ruby missing. Would it be better to settle this some other way?"

Mentally, Treville heartedly agreed. He'd spent the past few minutes muttering crossly to himself about being a reckless, impulsive fool. Yes, it would be highly amusing, and yes, it would settle this ridiculous contest, but was that really a reason to order two of his men to steal a valuable possession from a man consisting of power and irritability in equal (and very large) measure. Not only would the Cardinal not see the joke in any way, he could quite legally order Athos and Aramis to the gallows for theft.

Looking over at Porthos, who looked as though he'd reached the same conclusion, Treville came to a decision.

"You're right. Bring the two of them up here and I'll think of something else." He had no idea what, but he was aware that this was in danger of going too far. Much too far.

Porthos left, and Treville was going through saner options in his hear when he heard him returning. Only him, he realised, with a feeling of dread that was confirmed when Porthos burst through the door.

"They've gone."

* * *

Four hours had passed, and there was no sign of Athos or Aramis. He'd sent Porthos and D'Artagnan out to search lodgings, favoured taverns, and any other establishment that either of them might frequent. D'Artagnan had just returned, reporting that he'd looked in every place in the city that sold alcohol, and that there was no sign of Athos. As he finished reporting, Porthos rode in, looking flustered.

"I asked at Madame Laurent's, Madame Machand's, Madame …"

"Yes, Porthos, we are all painfully aware of Aramis' busy social life" interrupted Treville, "but have you found him?"

"No."

Treville dropped onto a bench and massaged his temples. Either Athos and Aramis had been kidnapped or killed by a group of criminals – but for them to be taken with no sign of a struggle was unlikely in the extreme – or they were already breaking in to the Cardinal's residence.

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A.N. As always, thank you for reading, and please review!


	14. Chapter 14

It was nearing midnight by the time Aramis was stealthily creeping along the corridors of the Cardinal's residence. He was heading towards the study; it made sense that it was where a workaholic like Richelieu would spend most time, and would therefore keep his favourite possessions there. While his means of entry had not been unpleasant by any means – he gave a slight smile in fond recollection of Juliette, with her bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair – it had nevertheless taken longer than anticipated, meaning that he was beginning to worry that Athos was ahead of him. He had no idea how Athos had planned on gaining entry to the Cardinal's private apartments, knowing full well that bedding pretty housemaids was not his style, but he was more than confident that he had managed it somehow.

And indeed he was right, for at this moment Athos was uncomfortably ensconced in a cupboard close to the Cardinal's study. Getting in had been relatively straightforward – it really was remarkable how few people actually took time to look at the tradesmen that entered and left the residence throughout the day (although, given that the security consisted of the Red Guards, Athos mused, maybe it wasn't all that surprising that he hadn't been noticed). He had now been crouched in the cupboard for over two hours, waiting for everything to become quiet and still.

When he hadn't heard any sounds for several minutes, Athos judged it safe to emerge. He was just opening the cupboard, however, when he caught the sound of footsteps proceeding softly along the corridor outside his temporary (and hideously cramped) residence. Swiftly he retreated, only to reopen the cupboard a crack and listen closely. There was something familiar about the steps of the person approaching. Something very familiar indeed.

Athos smiled slightly as he heard Aramis begin to pick the lock of the Cardinal's study. While both of them had taken several lessons in lock-picking from Porthos – a skill that had come in useful more times than he cared to admit – Aramis had always had the greater talent in this field, and was now saving Athos both time and irritation. He judged his moment carefully, and emerged from the cupboard just as Aramis got the study door open. It was almost a pity, though Athos as he rushed forward, that the element of surprise had to be exploited by overpowering Aramis as quickly as possible – he would have enjoyed savouring the way his expression had altered from triumph to bewilderment to intense annoyance.

This surprise, coupled with the fact that an annoyingly large part of his brain insisted on wondering how on earth Athos had crammed himself into such a small cupboard, meant that Aramis was less than prepared for the scuffle that ensued. However, the initial shock was replaced by slight relief that the stay in the cupboard hadn't done Athos any good – he was moving with less than his usual fluidity, enabling Aramis to press the advantage that slightly greater speed gave him.

Neither musketeer drew a weapon, aware that even the Red Guards were not so stupid to ignore the sounds of swordplay in the Cardinal's quarters. The fight continued for several minutes, before Athos grew impatient and launched himself bodily at Aramis, who (slightly smugly) dodged lightly to one side, and turned to watch the amusing spectacle of Athos crashing headlong into the wall.

Except that Athos crashed headlong into the door. The door that was no longer locked. The door that was in fact being opened from the other side by the Cardinal, who was working late, as was his habit, and who had been distracted from his work by faint noises from the corridor.

Really, thought Aramis, seeing his fellow musketeer land squarely on France's First Minister, this could not have gone any worse.

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Thank you for reading – reviews / suggestions are always appreciated!


	15. Chapter 15

"Your Eminence!" Aramis cried, rushing forward. "Thank heavens you're unharmed!"

Richelieu looked as confused as Athos felt, but before he could speak Aramis had carried on.

"We were praying we'd get here in time, but we weren't sure."

"In time for what?" the Cardinal demanded, picking himself up from the floor and regaining some semblance of his normal, irritable self.

Aramis shot Athos, still lying on the ground, a 'some-help-would-be-appreciated' glance, but received an unmoved stare in return. Athos had decided that as Aramis had shoved him through the door, he was entirely responsible for talking his way out of their current predicament. Additionally, there was the detail that Aramis had far, far more experience with charming himself out of sticky situations, though, as Athos thought to himself, said situations tended to involved irate husbands, who, though less than pleasant, were far less worrying than an irate Cardinal.

* * *

This was the state of affairs that Treville happened upon, having travelled to the Cardinal's residence with all speed. He was entirely unsure of what he would find, or how he would explain it, but his cursed sense of duty had forced him to hurry to Richelieu's quarters as fast as possible. He was greeted with the surreal sight of the Cardinal sporting a rapidly blackening eye, Athos lying on the floor, somehow still managing to appear unperturbed, and Aramis, who was, to put it mildly, not shrinking from the economy of truth that the situation required.

The musketeer was spinning a remarkable tale of an attempted assassination attempt upon the Cardinal, which the Musketeers had barely heard about in time. Fishermen, seamstresses and Huguenots all seemed to be involved, and Treville mused to himself that if Aramis hadn't made a career in the Musketeers, he could have made excellent money as a bard.

"So, having ascertained that an assassin was very possibly in your Eminence's private quarters, Athos and I felt it was our duty to come here as quickly as we could and ensure your safety personally" Aramis concluded. "After all, the untimely demise of the First Minister of France would be an unprecedented tragedy."

Treville stepped forward, shooting Aramis a 'don't overdo it' look, and studiously ignoring the slight snort from Athos' direction. The Cardinal, for once, looked almost pleased to see him, and when Treville informed him that the assassin had been apprehended outside the residence, Richelieu's face very nearly twitched into a smile.

"Well done, Treville. For once you and your men seem to be on top of things, even if they were somewhat … overzealous in their manner of entrance. Now, bring the assassin to me."

"What?"

"The assassin, Treville!" repeated the Cardinal with a hint of impatience. "If a man makes an attempt on my life I wish to speak with him. Go!"

The three men departed. It wasn't until they were on the main staircase that Athos spoke. "Aramis, I do hope your fairytale has taken this eventuality into account?"

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Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated!


	16. Chapter 16

By the time the trio reached the bottom of the stairs, half a dozen plans to appease and/or outwit the Cardinal had been suggested, primarily by Aramis, and shot down, primarily by Athos. Said plans had become steadily more outlandish the nearer the musketeers drew to the entrance of the Cardinal's residence, to the point where Aramis was frantically discussing how best to simulate an earthquake, and Athos had resorted to his patented 'say-one-more-word-and-I-will-kill-you-slowly' look.

It was only when they were outside that Athos and Aramis realised that their captain had yet to say a word. Far more worryingly, he looked almost gleeful. He certainly had a far happier countenance than the circumstances warranted.

"Captain?" ventured Aramis, when Treville's expression remained unchanged. He exchanged a concerned look with Athos when no response was forthcoming. Indeed, Treville seemed entirely unaware of his immediate surroundings. His smile, normally so reluctant to grace his face, was growing broader by the minute, and he was nodding slowly to himself.

It was only after Treville had actually started chuckling (a sound never before heard in the city limits) that he seemed to come back to himself. He positively beamed at Athos and Aramis, both of whom returned his look with an equal mixture of curiosity and terror.

"Gentlemen," began Treville, "I believe I have a solution, not only to this … issue, but to the contest as a whole."

"Aramis' fictitious assassin seems to have escaped. Our esteemed Cardinal will not be happy with this news. One of you is going to go and inform the Cardinal of their incompetence, while the other will return to the garrison, and prepare to form part of Madame Rodier's detail. The choice is yours."

With that, Treville departed for the garrison, still smiling to himself, leaving two bewildered musketeers behind him.


	17. Chapter 17

While both Athos and Aramis had enormous respect for Treville, they, along with most musketeers, saw him as more a man of action than intrigue. It was therefore hardly surprising that Silence reigned for several minutes after his departure, as the two musketeers struggled to come to terms with their captain's announcement, and, just as worryingly, his happiness.

Finally, however, Aramis turned to Athos, noting with slightly desperate hope that the other musketeer still looked slightly stunned. With any luck he would be able to steamroller Athos into cooperation. The rational part of his mind was entirely aware that steamrollering Athos into anything was near impossible, but at this point frantic optimism was trumping rationality.

"Athos, my friend, we all know that you are Treville's deputy, his heir apparent, as it were." Athos' eyebrows were rising rapidly, but Aramis soldiered on. "It could cause you significant damage to lose face in the Cardinal's eyes, so I think I should make the sacrifice and explain this to Richelieu … somehow."

Athos was privately ruminating on how Aramis' optimism that people would fall for his schemes was almost endearing at times. Out loud, however, he spoke in an even drier voice than usual.

"While I am, of course, deeply touched by your generosity, I wouldn't wish to deprive you of Madame Rodier's company, especially as she seemed so … taken with you on her last visit."

When it became clear that Aramis was going to splutter inarticulately for the foreseeable future, Athos continued on.

"Alright, so we would both prefer to suffer the short-term pain of making up something to satisfy the Cardinal rather than guard Madame Rodier. So why don't we skip this step and find a way of deciding this quickly."

"Pistols would be quickest" responded Aramis immediately, albeit with a distinct lack of hope in his voice.

"Very true, and pistols would also ensure my misery for the next several weeks, so let's move on" replied Athos.

"Shortest straw?" Aramis suggested. To his slight surprise Athos agreed, and Aramis headed towards the straw littering the ground near the stables. He bent to pick up the straws, ruminating to himself on how he could best rig this to his advantage.

However, his ruminations were abruptly cut short by a pistol butt to the back of the head.


	18. Chapter 18

Once again it was a lovely sunny day in Paris. Except in Treville's office, that is, where the mood was positively frostly. D'Artagnan and Porthos were torn between amusement and shock, and even Treville looked slightly discomforted. Athos, however, seemed positively serene, the polar opposite of Aramis, who was close to exploding.

"Of all the sneaky, underhanded …"

"I fail to see the issue" responded Athos equitably. "I simply decided to agree with you that pistols were the quickest way of settling the issue."

"That wasn't what I meant! You practically killed me!"

"You were unconscious for less than a minute. You don't even have a concussion. And in a way it was a valuable lesson for you."

Aramis paused his frantic pacing to stare incredulously at his fellow musketeer.

"A lesson?"

"Precisely" said Athos, "a lesson in the importance of staying aware at all times. Imagine if there was a real attack, and you were mooning over some pretty girl instead of staying alert?"

"I wasn't mooning – I don't moon! – I was collecting some straws to make a quick and painless decision."

"And I decided to make it even more quickly."

"But hardly painlessly!"

"It was painless for me."

"Enough!" interrupted Treville. "Amusing though this is, we do need to get back to work at some point in the future. Now, my understanding is that Athos was the one to explain the … issue to the Cardinal, and miraculously managed to keep him within his usual parameters of unhappiness. So you three will be guarding Madame Rodier on her arrival."

"But Captain!" Aramis wailed. Treville inwardly ruminated on how a grown man could wail, but managed to keep a straight face.

"Yes, Aramis?"

"He knocked me unconscious with a pistol!"

"Indeed, and Athos, I would not encourage that behaviour in the future, especially from a senior and experienced musketeer. Nevertheless, inventiveness is a prized quality in the musketeers …"

"Captain!"

"Yes, Aramis?"

"The last time that woman was in Paris she tried to kiss me!"

"I wouldn't have thought that was a great sacrifice" remarked D'Artagnan.

"While I see beauty in many places I do prefer the women I kiss to have at least some of their own teeth!"

"Enough!" interrupted Treville again, in the most authoritative voice he could muster.

"This contest is at an end – yes it is, Aramis – and three of you will guard Madame Rodier next month. I sincerely hope that this experience will have taught all of you a valuable lesson in the importance of mature and sensible conduct. Somehow, however, I doubt it."


End file.
